


The Night Belongs to Genesis

by Callisparrow



Category: Genesis (Band)
Genre: M/M, sexing it up backstage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 19:06:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3781009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callisparrow/pseuds/Callisparrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 1986, synths are in the air, and Mike and Phil get it on after a particularly good concert. Inspiration was equal parts actual Genesis performances and also a 1986 TV ad for Michelob.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Night Belongs to Genesis

“Tonight, tonight, tonight! Ohh, ohhhh...”

The blue spotlights flashed in synchrony onto the darkened stage, bathing them in a sudden spectacular glow. At the microphone Phil stood triumphant, head thrown back and eyes shut, belting out the vocals in a strong clear tone as only he could.

“I'm gonna make it right! Tonight, tonight, toniiiiight! Ohh, ohhhh...”

Tony sat at the center of his bank of multiple keyboards, almost an orchestra unto himself, a characteristic look of total concentration etched on his face as he moved his head to the dancing rhythm of his fingers. As the instrumental break pulsed onward Mike swayed to the beat, playing confident riffs on guitar and making the electric notes howl long and loud into the night. But lost as he was in the midst of his playing, Mike knew something about tonight was different. Tonight, he found himself avoiding the usual frequent glances across the stage at Tony, looking to their de facto leader for the next musical cue. Tonight, he had eyes for only one man—and that man was Phil.

“You keep telling me I got everything! You say I got everything I want!  
You keep telling me you're gonna help me, you're gonna help me, but you don't!”

Phil bounced on his toes as his voice soared to a crescendo over the waving crowd, and Mike couldn't help but grin. In everything he did Phil always hummed with a fantastic energy; sometimes he seemed like a tiny human dynamo that never stopped. And his energy just now was palpable under the sizzling heat of the multicolored lights. He clapped and stomped to the beat, he imitated Mike on air-guitar, he generally strutted his ass about the stage in a classy gray suit. Mike wasn't sure why, but there was something about that suit and the way it flattered him, and something in the way Phil's sandy hair curled in the back as he danced and cried down the microphone...

“But now I'm in too deep! You see it's got me so that I just can't sleep. Oooh, get me out of here...”

Mike bit his lower lip to regain concentration. Now was not the time. But tonight, tonight, he resolved, he would indeed make it right.

 

* * *

 

“Great show, guys, great show!” Phil was in high spirits as they disappeared backstage to the dressing rooms. A camera crew was tailing them on this particular leg of the tour, and Phil trotted some paces ahead to avoid answering the sillier questions, but he did seem to be having a good time mugging it up for the cameras. Mike trailed behind with Tony by his side. They were thirsty and hot but strangely energized even after such a long and complex show. It helped that the camera crew never seemed to focus as much attention on him or Tony as they did with Phil. It was understandable—bassists and keyboardists were never as visible in the public eye as the frontman, much less if your frontman was the Phil Collins. That was strange to think about. Phil Collins, overnight pop sensation, and longtime best friend.

Mike duly waited out the interviews and smiled for the photographers, all the while concealing a desperate impatience for the object of his desire. Phil always played up to the camera in group shots, and now he was standing close, very close. For a second he rested his head on Mike's chest, gazing up with innocent blue eyes before he broke away laughing. Mike clenched a muscle in his jaw. Dammit Phil, he thought, that is not helping...

After what seemed like forever the film crew decided they had enough material for the night and made their goodbyes and congratulations. Mike let out a small sigh of relief as he watched them go.

“So, back to the hotel?” Tony asked.

“Why not stay a bit?” said Phil. “I heard the crew left some champagne for us, if they haven't finished it already.”

“Mm, tempting,” Tony said. He glanced up at Mike and held his gaze meaningfully, a slight smile playing about his full lips. Mike swallowed nervously. Did he know? Was it that obvious?

“But you two enjoy,” Tony continued. “I have a few things to take care of.”

“All right, then, we'll see you soon. Meet you for a late dinner, okay?” Tony nodded as Phil drew him into a firm hug. “Great show tonight!”

Tony smiled, patted Phil on the back and disappeared down the hall to the stage exit and the waiting tour van. His retreating footsteps echoed in the bare white corridor, and for the first time in that hectic night, Mike realized he and Phil were finally alone.

“Aw, they lied to us, Mike! No more champagne,” Phil had already gone into the dressing room and was holding an empty green bottle upside-down. “But, there is water. Ahh, give it.” He fished a bottle out of the cooler and began to drink it greedily.

Mike crossed into the room, feeling strangely entranced by Phil's slightest movements. As Phil drank, Mike surreptitiously closed and locked the door behind his back. He knew it was probably unlikely they would be disturbed, but, better safe than sorry.

“Here, catch.” Phil tossed him a fresh bottle of chilled water. Mike caught it in time and opened it gratefully, gulping down more than half at a go before he exhaled and wiped his mouth. He still couldn't keep his eyes off his friend.

“You know, you look good in a suit, Phil. You should wear them more often.” Mike's hooded blue eyes were strangely dark as he gazed appreciatively at the little pop star. Phil felt a twinge of excitement stir low in his stomach as Mike looked him over. Was it just the continuing high of post-show adrenaline? Phil aggressively undid his collar and grinned to cover his uncertainty.

“Aw, thanks, friend! You don't look so bad yourself tonight.” He winked and shrugged off his jacket, tossing it carelessly in Mike's direction before turning to the vanity mirror to unbutton his shirt. The white fabric was positively soaked through with sweat across his chest and back.

“But I tell you it's bloody hot wearing it. They need to invent air-conditioned formal-wear, or I need to sweat less, either one.”

Mike just stared. He had not heard a word of that. His eyes were fixed on the handsome sight in the mirror as his friend undressed, and he began to feel a throbbing in his groin. The feeling only intensified once Phil had peeled his shirt away and flung it to the floor, raising his arms above his head and loosing a throaty sigh of relief.

It was too much. Without thinking Mike paced forward and grabbed Phil, groping firmly at his ass with one hand and holding him tight about the waist with the other. His flesh yielded under his moist fingers. Phil gasped, then relaxed, pleased at the attention.

“Why, Michael.” Phil covered his mouth in feigned modesty. “Not getting enough from Tony, are we?” Mike smiled and lowered his head, whispering into Phil's ear.

“Phil, I've been staring at this arse all night, and I could swear you've been teasing me.”

“Who, me?” Phil assumed a look of false innocence. “Naaaah.” He squirmed around in Mike's tight grasp as best he could and stretched up to kiss him roughly on the mouth. “I don't tease,” he murmured.

“Then get over to that couch.” Mike's voice growled in his throat as he pushed Phil towards one of the black leather couches that graced the dressing room. Phil grinned and started to undo his belt.

“No! Don't unzip,” Mike barked. Phil froze, raising an eyebrow in confusion. As he watched, Mike stripped off his shoes, white jacket, trousers and underwear, then strode purposefully to the couch to sit down, legs spread to display his erect cock.

“Keep your trousers on for now. I want to see you on your knees.” Mike's voice, low and quiet as always, was now utterly authoritative, a voice to be obeyed without question. Phil trembled with arousal at the sight of him, lean and tall and wearing nothing but a loose-fitting orange jersey, still damp with sweat.

“Oh, yes...” Phil sank to his knees obediently, suddenly feeling very small and insignificant below his friend's looming height, but the throbbing of his own cock inside his pants grew almost painful. It was clear that Mike was in a rare domineering mood tonight. Usually he was so peaceful and easygoing in his lovemaking, allowing Phil or Tony to do whatever they liked with him before he took his turn. But now, Mike's demand was suddenly the one thing in the whole world he wanted to fulfill, to worship and submit to. He ran his hands up Mike's inner thighs and pressed himself closer, grasping his waist in a fierce hug as he breathed in his sharp odor. Soon he felt Mike put a hand to the top of his head, gently but firmly guiding him downwards. For a second he gazed up into Mike's lustful eyes, then with a shiver of excitement, he set to work. He took Mike's cock in hand and stroked it softly, smoothing the drops of pre-cum over its length. Delighting in Mike's low moans of pleasure he prolonged the moment, teasingly flicking his tongue over the tip several times before taking him fully into his mouth. He sucked slowly as Mike thrust into him, unable to keep still.

“Oh, that is so good. Oh, more...” Mike's breathing quickened as he moved his hips in a slowly increasing rhythm. Phil didn't miss a beat, fairly swallowing him down whole in his eagerness. He reached up to fondle Mike's balls and grab his ass, rubbing his hands anywhere he could reach. Their moans of pleasure served to encourage each other, entering into a loop of increasing desire and a need to satisfy.

Mike looked down to watch Phil pleasure him, and in his lustful haze he realized it would be so easy to let Phil suck him off to completion. But he had other plans in mind. He allowed Phil to continue until he felt the familiar pressure of near-orgasm build inside him, then quickly buried his fingers in Phil's hair and pulled him away before he could finish. Phil gazed up questioningly as his lips slid off Mike's dick with a wet pop.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing, you do that so well. But right now I want to fuck you,” Mike said. He pulled Phil into his lap and kissed him deeply, tasting himself there. Phil moaned and rubbed the bulge in his trousers against Mike's body.

“Yes, fuck me—”

“Go and fetch the lubricant. It should be in my travel case.” Phil scrambled off his lap and fairly ran for it, fumbling through their luggage until he found the desired object. When he returned Mike had already discarded his shirt.

“Take off your pants,” Mike ordered. Phil did as he was told, and he groaned as the pressure from the tailored trousers was finally relieved. He stood there engorged and naked, feeling sticky with sweat and very vulnerable in a way he never felt before. It filled him with apprehension and excitement all at once. Mike held out his hand for the lube bottle.

“Now get down on the couch, on your hands and knees,” he said, filling one hand with lube and slicking it over his cock. Phil didn't respond immediately, mesmerized as he watched Mike stroke himself.

“Get down!” he repeated, and Phil jumped. He swiftly obeyed and settled on all fours into the squeaking leather cushions. He longed to touch himself but hesitated, wondering if Mike would even allow it, so he waited tensely for whatever was coming.

He didn't have long to wait. A sharp smack blistered across his ass and he cried out, more from surprise than pain.

“Ow, Mike! What was that for?”

“I've been waiting to do that all night,” Mike said with a laugh. He knelt behind Phil and rested his weight on the shorter man, pushing him down against the padded armrest. “You look so good this way,” he panted in Phil's ear. Mike's cock was sliding between Phil's buttocks and put pressure on his asshole but he had not yet attempted penetration. Phil grunted impatiently and angled his ass up to meet Mike's casual thrusts—and promptly yelped in overwhelming pain as Mike accidentally forced himself deep into his tight hole. Stars flashed before his eyes and he crumpled up on his side.

“Ahh, I'm sorry!” Mike gasped. He withdrew immediately and lay down beside Phil, gathering him to his chest in a tight hug. “Are you all right? I'm so sorry...”

“Yeah,” Phil choked. His face was contorted with pain and for several minutes he remained in a very tense ball, gasping for air and practically immobilized. Not surprisingly, his hard-on was fading, but that didn't seem terribly important at the moment. Mike continued to hold him gently and rock slightly back and forth. He couldn't seem to apologize enough.

“We don't have to do this. Bloody hell, I feel terrible,” Mike was saying. But Phil looked up and managed a reassuring, though slightly pained smile.

“Don't feel bad. It was an accident. The pain's already going away.” And indeed it was. Slowly the initial agony faded to a dull ache, and finally an infrequent throb. He nestled safely in Mike's arms for a few minutes more until he felt his arousal start to return. He began to move his hips against his friend's lanky body. “Mmm, please continue,” he said, slightly muffled against Mike's chest.

“Are you sure?”

“Don't you want to?” He took Mike's face in his hands and kissed him softly, slipping his tongue into his mouth. They both grew hard again in an instant.

“More than anything,” said Mike as he broke the kiss. “But I'll take it slower this time.” Phil laughed and turned over on his hands and knees again.

“You know this would make a great story. 'Dear Penthouse, as I was getting fucked backstage today, a most peculiar thing happened...'” Mike snorted with laughter as he applied more lubricant to himself and between Phil's asscheeks.

“Yes, so let that be a lesson to you! Or something,” he joked. He wiped the lube residue on Phil's strong back and tightly muscled shoulders before letting his hands rest approvingly on the drummer's hips.

“Ready?”

“Oh get on with it, Mike,” Phil quipped. “Mmm, just fuck me already.”

Mike didn't need to be told again. He rubbed his thumb over Phil's asshole, gradually relaxing and opening him up. He soon noticed Phil was stroking himself with one hand as he purred in quiet pleasure. Ordinarily he wouldn't mind such a thing. But now, feeling the way he did...

“Ah-ah, stop that,” Mike said with a wicked grin, and pressed his other hand firmly on the back of Phil's neck, forcing him to kneel down further. He smacked his upturned ass again. “I'm still in charge here. You'll come when I say so, understand?”

“Ye-s-s,” Phil whined, feeling as though he might burst. He was desperate for relief but didn't dare touch himself again. Mike continued to stretch him open until at last he decided he could wait no longer and plunged into Phil's willing body. He moved very slowly, breathing deep with every thrust as Phil's muscles tightened around his cock. He felt his legs start to tremble and knew he didn't have long before the moment of release. Wrapping his arms around Phil's body for leverage, he gradually increased his rhythm until they were fucking hard and fast. Phil was mashed into the armrest of the leather couch but he cried out eagerly each time he was pounded and before long, his throaty vocalizing proved enough to send Mike over the edge. With a shuddering gasp he threw back his head, yelled wordlessly and spurted hot and deep inside Phil.

Sighing heavily, Mike slid out and sank back into the couch, dazed and utterly sated. He felt as though his body was melting with satisfaction. He sat unmoving and might very well have fallen asleep, had Phil not shifted onto his back and prodded him insistently.

“Mi-i-ke,” he whined. Mike opened one eye to see Phil pouting at him, still fully aroused and unsatisfied. He smiled.

“I haven't forgotten,” he said, and without another word he wrapped his lips around Phil's dick and languidly began to suck him. Phil caught his breath as he savored Mike's warm mouth and slowly licking tongue. He felt Mike's beard rasp at his thighs and he squirmed with delight, caught between laughing and wordless exclamations of pleasure. Arching his back, he could do little else but submit to his friend's considerable skill, and it wasn't long before the throbbing in his loins gave way to delicious release. Crying out as he held onto Mike's tangled hair, he came so abundantly that Mike was taken by surprise and gagged a little, but he swallowed most of it and allowed the rest to run inelegantly out of his mouth.

They lay together, hot and slick with sweat and lubricant and god-only-knew-what-other fluids, letting their breathing slow. Usually Phil liked to cuddle against Mike's chest to hear the beating of his heart, but on this occasion he felt too rubbery to even move into that position. So he stayed where he was and allowed Mike to lie down on his stomach. They said nothing for a long while, content to hold each other quietly in trusting warmth and comfort.

After a while Phil began to feel hungry from his exertions and remembered his promise of dinner with Tony. He stirred, and when Mike did not move he was fairly certain his friend had drifted into a light sleep on top of him. He tweaked one of Mike's prominent ears to wake him up.

“Hey. I suppose we can't stay here all night,” Phil said, breaking the silence. Mike murmured in agreement as he awoke.

“Mm. Where would you care to go?”

“Well. Back to the hotel to shower, for one. And then get something to eat, I'm starving.”

“And then?”

Phil grinned at his sleepy friend with sparkling little eyes. “And then, Michael, well. The night belongs to us.”


End file.
